Echo
by Misti Star
Summary: When Christine left Erik to be with Raoul, she never expected to return to her Angel of Music. When unfortunate circumstances arise, she soon realizes that there is little else she can do.
1. Chapter 1

The evening was a cool one, an occasional breeze lowering the temperature even further with each pass. Gray clouds filled the sky, lighting up the world below by reflecting the light of the moon.

It was going to snow, decided a lithe man standing near the back of the cemetery. Numerous tombstones threw shadows about him, leaving little to be seen aside from the white mask upon his face… Pulling away from one such stone, he strode forward, gazing about at the morose scene.

The living dead amongst the nonliving; how very fitting.

The swish of a cloak could be heard as Erik began down one of the stone covered paths, heading towards the newer area, where people were most likely to be found. Few came to visit those long passed.

As the night watchman, it was his duty to protect the dead from desecration, to insure that their everlasting sleep would not be disturbed. At the same time, they protected him from the prying eyes of the world, away from those who would mock and jeer…

Sighing softly, he raised a hand to the cool face that rested upon his own. A face within a face, his never to see the light of day again. It had taken nearly forty years for him to realize it, to realize that he was meant to be alone… At one point, he'd placed hopes for a normal life in a young girl, yet she too had turned against him as his mother had.

His hand pulled away suddenly, as though having been burned. Rage filled him, momentarily blocking his vision and drawing an inhuman sound from his lips… As quickly as the anger had come, it was gone again, leaving the calm and aloof man behind. He had little now, but no less than he had had before… He would survive with only his music to keep him company; he knew that it would never betray him.

Sinking down at the foot of a familiar stone, he gazed straight ahead, his eyes blank and his mind wandering. There was so very little to do at night, and Monsieur Daaé was certainly not going to keep him company as a good host should.

The sound of soft footsteps was heard against the dirt path leading towards him; no, towards the grave. Erik flew to his feet, dark eyes narrowing. Who would be out at such a late hour?

His hand delved into his coat, fingers brushing briefly against a strand of braided cat-gut. Although he doubted the Punjab lasso would be used, it did not hurt to be prepared. After all, the world was full of predators…

Cautiously slipping behind another, taller stone, his dark eyes silently peered out, focusing on the supposed visitor. They widened as a familiar face came into view and his heart forgot to beat. Although he knew her presence was inevitable, nothing could have prepared him for her sudden arrival.

Drawing further back, he fully intended to make his way quickly to the other side of the cemetery, back where Madame de Chagny would never be found. No longer did he wish to watch her from afar; no longer did he wish to revel in her beauty.

Closing his eyes against his inner pain, Erik soundlessly began away, only to be stopped when she spoke.

"Erik?" came a hesitant call, sounding so wonderful upon her tongue.

But how? No doubt a coincidence of sorts… Perhaps the cemetery reminded her of him, after all, he had tried to spirit her away near this very grave only a few short years before…

All too willingly, Erik found himself halting at summons, his traitorous eyes returning once more to her. As he stood there, he took in her heavy garments, grimacing as he saw she was with child. Of course, that too was inevitable; she and the Viscount loved one another more than life itself, didn't they?

The pain was growing too much to bear and he felt as though he were being crushed beneath the weight of his past and his emotions. He made to move forward yet again, but her voice rang out once more.

"Erik? Are you there?"

_How did she know?_ Perhaps this was some sort of nightmare, or perhaps a hallucination. Maybe Nadir was right when he said that he was wasting away…

"Erik, I know that you're there. Nadir told me that you would be here."

Damn that man! He should have killed him as well as Raoul when he had them so snugly in the torture chamber!

Reluctantly, Erik withdrew from the shadows, now facing Madame de Chagny. He did not speak, afraid that he would be unable to due to the constricting of his throat.

A serene smile drew across Christine's face and her eyes softened on seeing him. "Erik…" she murmured, slowly stepping forward.

Ignoring, simultaneously, the urge to rush forward and the urge to retreat, Erik remained silent and unmoving.

Her smile faded and hurt filled her eyes. Really, what could she expect as she had turned him away so long ago? Although she had loved him then, the security and fondness she'd held for Raoul had led her away from her Angel of Music.

"What is it that you want, Madame?" Erik finally managed to ask, the music from his voice missing and his tone seeming dead.

"I…only wanted to see you…" she murmured, gaze shifting to the ground.

"You have. Should you not be returning to your husband? I'm certain he wouldn't want _his_ wife meeting strange men at so late an hour. Especially in a cemetery. He might begin to question your loyalty to him."

Inwardly, he grimaced at his harsh words, wishing he could keep a more civil tongue while in her presence. Despite his love for her and despite his acceptance of her decision, he could not help but be somewhat resentful… When she left, she had taken him with her, leaving only an empty shell of a man behind.

Christine's fists clenched at her side and she struggled between tears and anger. "Do you want me to leave?" she demanded.

He sent her a cool look before nodding once. "If you wouldn't mind, Madame, I have so very much to do, ensuring that the dead stay where they are supposed to."

"If you insist…" she murmured, defeated. How could she think that he would treat her as before?

"I only wanted to tell you…to tell you…"

"To tell me, what?"

"That my son has taken an interest in the violin."

"Wonderful," he replied dryly, "perhaps he will become the next Herr Mozart. Tell me, Madame, what is your true reason for coming here? If your purpose was to twist the knife you placed in my back, then I assure you that you have succeeded."

She visibly grimaced. "That isn't what I meant…" she protested.

"What did you mean?"

"I mean… I was hoping… I was hoping you could teach him…"

Anger flooded through him and he felt the familiar constriction of his chest that usually arose when his pulse quickened. Without another word, he spun on his heel and began to stiffly walk away.

"Erik! Wait!"

This time, he ignored her.

"Erik! Please, wait!"

He continued forward.

"Erik, there is no one else I can turn to!"

The note of pleading in her voice caused him to turn, confusion further contorting his features behind the mask. Why was she so insistent? Why had she come here to ask so foolish a thing?

"Erik... He is… Nicolas is…"

"He is what, Madame? You are trying my patience."

"He is deformed." she whispered.

-----------------------

What do you think? Is it worth continuing?


	2. Chapter 2

I must admit I didn't expect such a loud cry for continuation. However, I thank you all for your encouragement. On another note, I'm afraid I may have confused you. Nicolas (Ni-cola pronunciation wise) is **Raoul **and Christine's child. In short, Erik had nothing to do with his coming into the world. Sorry for any confusion I may have caused.

Furthermore, I warn you all in advance that I am drawing from a variety of sources including the recent movie, the original novel by Gaston Leroux, and _Phantom_ by Susan Kay. Needless to say, I have no rights to any characters other than those I come up with, like Nicolas.

---

_"He is deformed." she whispered._

Over and over the words ran through Erik's mind as he walked home, his night shift now over and the sun beginning to rise.

_"Erik, there is no one else I can turn to!"_

Surely her husband's money was enough to make any teacher oblivious to whatever deformity the child had! Why did she come to him? What made her believe he would take part in her child's education? What made her think he would care?

A heavy weight settled in his stomach and he continued onward.

_She knew._

She knew he would have done and would still do anything for her. She'd seen the extent of his love. No! She'd seen the extent of his obsession! She knew she held power over him. She knew he would do anything she asked of him…

Absentmindedly, he wondered if this was how a dog felt towards a cruel master; an undying devotion towards someone who would only hurt it in the end. What would happen once the child decided he no longer wanted to learn the violin? No doubt he would be turned away once again.

Anger flooded through him, anger at himself. Why had he agreed? Why was he subjecting himself to such torture? To be so close, but so very far away…

His mind wrapped around the idea, studying it from all angles.

He would see Christine again, once a week. He would be visiting their home against Raoul's wishes as Monsieur de Chagny was not to know of Nicolas' music teacher. There was the money, but Erik hardly needed it. Although his funds from the Opera House grew smaller, he hardly used currency any longer other than to buy clothing. Food hardly interested him, but the thought of roaming about in the nude or in tatters was even less interesting. He was no pauper.

As his thoughts swayed, his eyes swept across his aging form. At forty-five, he had already outlived many. His hair still had its black coloring and his body still moved as it should, though it protested at times. He was not yet on death's doorstep, but he grew closer as the years passed.

It still surprised him that he'd made it past infancy considering his mother's _undying_ devotion to him.

_Mother_.He wondered, feeling a sharp pain in his heart at the word. Christine was a mother now, soon to be a mother of two. Nicolas, she said, was nearly six while the next was due to arrive soon from the look of her swollen abdomen.

Perhaps it would be a blessing that Raoul and he would never meet again as he would surely kill the man on sight.

Forcing such thoughts from his mind, Erik returned to the problem at hand. Already, he decided to distance himself from Christine as well as any of her offspring. If he maintained a formal relationship, that of tutor to student, then perhaps his heart would not ache on seeing Christine or on leaving her household once Nicolas decided he had no more interest in the violin. In fact, Erik sincerely doubted the boy would hold _any_ interest for long.

Regardless, he could not allow any emotion fester. Madame de Chagny and Nicolas were nothing more than a source of income; a source of _unneeded _income that he could do away with at a moment's notice. He had no obligation to them and could leave whenever he saw fit.

Erik's hand found its way to the nape of his neck where his thin fingers idly toyed with stray strands of his hair.

Nicolas was not Reza, nor would he ever be. Erik would treat him as Father Mansart and his architecture tutor had; he would teach him and have nothing else to do with him. He wanted no further connections to the de Chagny family.

Finally reaching his small home, Erik silently passed through the doorway. His solitude was assured as the home rested on the edge of the cemetery grounds. After all, he was the caretaker.

Once inside, he settled himself upon his bed. No longer did he rest in his coffin, as the only objects he'd managed to take from the Opera were those he could carry as he fled from the encroaching mob nearly seven years ago.

Soon, sleep overtook him and Erik was thrown into oblivion.

---

Nearly a week passed before Erik received further word from Christine about their new arrangement.

Erik had only just sunk into sleep when the bell woke him. Knowing it could be no one else, he reluctantly rose to let Nadir Khan, the Persian, enter.

On opening the front door, Erik's dark eyes panned across the older man, noting his white hair and wrinkles. "You're still alive?" he murmured, standing aside to allow him entrance.

Nadir glanced at him as he passed. "And in better condition than you." he finally responded.

Both sat down, appraising one another a moment longer before Erik broke the silence.

"What is it that you want?"

Nadir searched his coat, drawing out a sealed envelope. "Madame de Chagny asked me to send this to you."

"No more midnight encounters?" Erik prompted, taking the envelope and savagely breaking the de Chagny seal. His eyes swept across the paper, following Christine's flowing hand. Once he'd finished, his gaze returned to his guest.

"Tell me, Nadir, what possessed you to tell Christine of my whereabouts?"

Nadir settled back into his chair and regarded Erik with his hands clasped upon his chest. "Her son."

Erik sent him a dark look. "I have no interest in her family matters."

"Then why accept?"

Erik shot to his feet, his eyes smoldering and anger coursing through his veins. "You knew I would accept!" he accused.

"The boy reminds me of you." Nadir replied.

"Yes, from what I've been told, we look somewhat similar from the front." Reigning in his temper, Erik retook his seat.

"That is not what I meant."

"What did you mean?"

"He insists on being alone when he isn't."

"Don't patronize me, Khan."

"Don't act foolishly." Nadir retorted. "Paris is still recovering from the Phantom and now you would have another come?"

"What are you talking about, old fool?"

"Nicolas needs to know he is not alone. Just as you do."

Erik stood again, trailing towards another room. "You are wasting your time."

"You are wasting away."

The former Phantom sent him an annoyed look. "I am none of your concern, Nadir. You've delivered your message," he motioned towards the door, "you may leave now."

Nadir moved only to grow comfortable. "Not yet." he replied, his mouth sagging downward. "Perhaps I should tell Anne-Marie where you are staying."

"Are you trying to threaten me? I assure you Nadir, Madame Giry has no interest in my welfare. Perhaps you should do likewise."

"She is more interested than you realize, Erik. If you would only open your eyes, you would see it. Since you left the Opera House, she has done nothing but hound me about you and curse your name."

"Curse my name?" Erik echoed, seeming slightly amused now. "Are we speaking of the same woman?"

Nadir scowled. "You find it funny? He slowly pulled himself to his feet. "Perhaps I will inform her."

"And she will do what?"

"She will come here and put sense in you." he replied confidently.

"You seem quite confident in her capabilities."

"I am. And now, I will leave."

"Please, do." Erik replied, now moving towards his bedroom.

Nadir glanced back and slowly shook his head. "When will you realize?" he murmured, before he left him to sleep.

Meanwhile, Christine's letter lay open upon a small table, the words for all to see.

_Erik, _

_I cannot thank you enough for accepting. If it is convenient for you, perhaps Nicolas' lessons could begin very soon? I await your response and thank you again._

_Christine_

---

Here's another chapter. A bit of filler, but things have to move along, don't they? For the record, Nadir Khan is the Persian in both _The__Phantom of the Opera _and _Phantom._ Reza is Nadir's son in _Phantom_ who Erik takes a liking to.

How do you like it? Still worth continuing? I'm not going to continue unless I feel people want me to and I only know that through your wonderful reviews!

Please, tell me if you find any inconsistencies or errors at all. I'm by no means perfect and will eagerly accept any constructive criticism.


	3. Chapter 3

**I would like to dedicate this chapter to Lena, the only person who reviewed the last chapter.**

It really means a lot to me when you take time to review and give me some feedback. Even the occasional "I like your story" is enough as it tells me you want me to continue. When no one reviews, I don't know whether or not you liked what I wrote.

Makes sense, doesn't it? Sixty-two views and only one person wants me to keep writing…

---

Raoul was out for the evening. What better time to become acquainted with his new student?

Striding slowly towards the front door of the de Chagny estate, Erik wondered once more whether or not he'd made the right decision. As his gloved hand rang the bell, he knew that he'd come to the point of no return.

Hurried footsteps were heard, followed by a plump maid answering the door. She glanced briefly at him, taking in his height as well as the fedora that was drawn low over his eyes. Its shadow, combined with the dark, concealed his mask from view. The servants were likely to talk already of their Lady's strange visitor, but it would be much worse if they saw he was concealing his face.

After all, Erik certainly wasn't Madame de Chagny's lover. Still, he could not risk Raoul hearing of _him_. The young vicomte needn't know that the Phantom was the one educating his son.

The maid turned and flounced towards the parlor where she left him to wait for Christine.

When she entered, only moments later, Erik quickly stood, nodding to her in greeting.

Christine returned the gesture and seated herself opposite him.

The two regarded one another, neither seeming willing to begin the conversation. Christine's boldness from their midnight encounter had vanished and she now sat silent and uncertain. Finally, she spoke.

"Erik, I cannot thank you enough for this." she murmured, her gratitude unending. She knew if anyone understood Nicolas malady, it would be him.

"Monsieur Belden, if you will, Madame."

Confusion filled her face. "Monsieur…?"

"Belden."

"I…see…" she murmured. "Very well, Monsieur Belden."

"Where is Nicolas?"

"He's in his room, doing his lessons."

"The point of this meeting was so that I could introduce myself to him, Madame."

Christine gestured to the plump maid who came forward. "Would you please bring Nicolas down?" she prompted. The woman nodded and bustled away, leaving the two alone.

"Madame." Erik stated, gaining Christine's attention once more. "I ask that you leave while I speak to the boy."

Her eyebrows drew together and she studied him a moment before reluctantly moving to her feet and beginning out. As she exited, Nicolas entered.

Erik first took notice of the boy's hostile stance, leaving him to wonder if he were coming for a lesson or a fight. Secondly, his eyes were drawn to the boy's face.

While the left half remained untouched by the deformity, the remaining portion was ravaged. The skin was a reddish color, as though it had been rubbed raw, and hung loosely, bunching in some areas. All in all, it looked as though someone had stretched the skin and then released it, allowing it to fall as it pleased. Furthermore, the right nostril sat higher than the left and seemed to have drawn the corner of his mouth upward as well, leaving him with a permanent sneer.

In Erik's opinion, the boy's deformity was nothing compared to his own. At least the child had a nose.

The two took in one another before Nicolas' green eyes narrowed. "So you're my tutor?" he demanded.

Erik's dark eyes did similarly. "What else would I be, Monsieur?"

"I bet you wish you hadn't accepted the job now." Nicolas retorted.

"And why is that?"

"Don't act like you can't see it!" he shot back, fists clenching. "I know it's there and so do you! I bet you get sick just looking at it!"

"Don't flatter yourself, Monsieur." Erik replied coldly. "As you so intelligently noted before, I am your musical instructor and, therefore, am not here to discuss or to admire your disfigurement. Now, tell me why you are interested in the violin rather than waste my time."

Nicolas face contorted with anger. "Who do you think you are?" he demanded.

"I am not a very patient man, boy." Erik snapped. "Either enlighten me on your interest or have your mother find another instructor."

Nicolas' rage grew. "I'm no boy!"

At these words, Erik turned and calmly began towards the door, leaving Nicolas to stare dumbly after him. Realizing his intent, he darted after him.

"Wait!" he protested, his small hand catching Erik's cloak. "I want to learn!"

Erik glanced back at him. "And why is that?"

"My mother wants me to."

"Very well." Erik began to walk again.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

"I have no intention of instructing someone with no interest in the instrument."

"I've heard one before!" Nicolas protested. "I've heard one!"

"And?"

"I liked it."

"What makes you believe you have either the discipline or the will to play one?"

Nicolas defiantly set his jaw. "I already know all about them! My mother's father played one and she told me all about them!"

"Did she?" Erik asked, turning now so that he fully faced the boy. The light from the electric lamps fell upon him, illuminating his mask despite the fedora's cover. For the first time, Nicolas took notice of it and his eyes grew wide and curious. He opened his mouth to question the covering, yet was cut off when Erik asked him a question.

"What are the four strings of the violin?"

He took a moment to gather his thoughts before replying, "G, D, A, E."

"Why is the bow rosined?"

"To produce sound, to grip the string."

"You produce different notes by?"

"Different fingerings." As he spoke, he held his left hand up, wiggling the fingers upon it. "You finger with this hand and use the other to pluck or bow."

"Why do you want to learn to play?"

"Because I want to. I'll learn fast too, just so you know." An obstinate gleam entered his eyes and his posture changed to that of eager anticipation.

Satisfied, Erik nodded to him. "Do you have an instrument of your own?"

"Yes, it's a half size."

"Retrieve it."

Nicolas sent him an affronted look and snapped his fingers, calling the maid from before. At that same moment, he received a hard push from behind.

"I told you to retrieve it, not her."

"That's not my job!" he protested.

"Surely you're capable of something so simple."

Nicolas sent him a smoldering look and reluctantly left to do as he requested. While he was away, Erik seated himself once more upon a sofa, choosing to remove his fedora. It wasn't as though the servants standing out in the hallway could see that he wore a mask. Perhaps his face looked strange from that distance, but he doubted they would understand why.

Nicolas returned with the violin and bow which Erik took and examined. He threw a critical eye over it before testing the strings. Though it was slightly out of tune, probably due to the cold weather, there was nothing else wrong with it and soon even this was remedied.

Returning the instrument, he asked, "Do you know how to hold it?"

Nicolas clumsily placed the instrument so that it rested on his left shoulder, leaving the scroll on his left palm.

Erik stood and perfected his positioning before drawing back. "That is a good size for you." he mused. "Very well, I am certain your mother has taught you the notes, correct?"

Nicolas nodded. "She showed me how to put my fingers on the fingerboard."

"And you understand the different notes?"

"Yes."

"I see. Show me an E on the D string."

Nicolas obediently placed his pointer finger on the D string and Erik continued with the exercise. Finally, he felt certain enough of Nicolas' knowledge and stood to leave.

"When I return next week, I expect you to be able to repeat this exercise without flaw. In other words, I want you to be familiar with the fingerings."

Nicolas nodded slowly before frowning. "But I didn't get to play anything!"

"What can you play when you are so slow to finger? The open strings which don't require any fingering?"

Nicolas glared at him. "You just wait!" he snapped. "When you come back, I'll know these!"

"I expect no less from you."

With that, their first lesson was over.

---

How did you like it? Please read and review! I hope the violin lingo wasn't too difficult. I'm also sorry if I'm not historically correct about the violin. I'm afraid I only know about the modern versions and know little about those they might have played in the eighteen hundreds/early nineteen hundreds. I know they haven't changed much over the years, but that's about all I know.


	4. Chapter 4

"I wish I could be the one,  
the one who won't care at all  
But being the one on the stand,  
I know the way to go, no one's guiding me."

Avenged Sevenfold, _Unholy Confessions_

---

Though dawn drew ever nearer, Erik could not bring himself to leave the cemetery. As the sun crested on the horizon, he felt a nervous energy build up within him. He couldn't explain the feeling, yet knew only that something was going to happen.

Even if he had known what was to come, he would have remained.

Passing amongst the many graves, his mind wildly struck out, bringing his other occupation to his thoughts.

For a month now, he had instructed Nicolas at the de Chagny home; always while Raoul was away. In that time, he had come to rethink his expectations of Nicolas. While the boy was hopelessly stubborn, he showed a love and dedication for music and the violin.

He also showed a ridiculous curiosity in what lay beneath Erik's mask. While he never attempted to remove it, his eyes, when unoccupied by music, often trailed to it. Erik doubted his reaction to seeing what lay beneath would be anything like Christine's, but he could not have the boy's mouth running. Moreover, he did not want Nicolas to see him as anything more than a teacher. Despite their similar deformities, Erik refused to grow attached to the family.

He would not be destroyed again.

Pausing in his thoughts he was vaguely surprised to find himself once again with Monsieur Daaé. Struck with a sense of déjà vu, the feeling only increased on his hearing footsteps draw near. Yet these steps were slower and more deliberate than the ones before.

Surely she would not return?

Slipping once more behind a grave stone, he waited for the unexpected visitor to draw near.

Shortly after, Madame de Chagny lurched unsteadily forward.

Why was _she_ here?

Christine leaned heavily against another stone, her face pale and breathing, quick.

She seemed to be in pain.

Before she could call, Erik came forward, his features behind the mask concerned.

"Madame?" he ventured.

Her dark eyes locked with his and he saw pain in their depths.

"Christine?" he prompted, formalities forgotten.

"Erik…I need your…your help…" she gasped, feeling pain slice through her abdomen.

Without another word or thought, he gently took her in his arms, quickly returning to his home. Once there, he laid her carefully upon his bed.

Allowing her to catch her breath, he wondered at her sudden affliction. Not only that, but he wondered at her coming there.

If something were wrong, why didn't her husband call for a doctor?

He was startled from his thoughts when her sweaty hand tightly gripped his own.

"Erik!" she shouted. "Erik! I think it…it's coming!"

Confusion filled him. What was coming? His eyes swept over her form and he realized with horror what she meant.  
**  
_Why had she come here?_**

Her sudden scream threw him into action and he moved to fetch a doctor, an action foreign to him.

"Erik!" she shrieked. "Please don't leave me!" The imploring note in her voice brought him to a stop and he struggled for an answer as to what he should do.

"Please don't leave me! I don't want to be alone!" she nearly sobbed, the pain growing to be too much.

Coming to a decision, he brushed his fingertips across her slick brow in what he hoped was a comforting action. While her fear of being alone dissipated, the pain continued to grow making her feel as though she were being torn asunder.

Yes, it was coming.

"I will be back in a moment." He murmured, stepping out of the room to gather towels and to boil some water. Her screams followed him out the door.

While the water began to simmer, he returned with several herbs, most of which for the pain. He managed to coax her mouth open and she grew somewhat still as she chewed, at his instruction, on the plants.

With her quiet, he could concentrate on what must be done.

Erik calmly removed his coat and rolled up the sleeves of the white shirt beneath. The closest he had ever come to aiding in birth was with animals and he could only hope the procedure was the same in humans.

If he'd known any doctors or midwives, he doubted he would be preparing himself for this.

Cautiously, he removed the now boiling water from the stove, returning to his own room to set it on one of the towels. He then placed a pair of scissors into it as he racked his mind for any information on birth or female anatomy it might hold.

He didn't want to do this, but what other choice did he have? He couldn't very well turn her away when, he assumed, she was so near to having the child. And what would happen if he were to leave her to search for a doctor? He knew very well that childbirth was dangerous for both mother and child and refused to be held accountable for Christine or her offspring's death. Unfortunately, this left him with only one option and that was to see the birth through to the end.

Hesitantly, he drew to Christine's side. With trembling fingers, he began to undo the clasps of her winter coat.

Fortunately, she seemed oblivious to his actions, the pain growing too much despite the anesthetic.

Erik carefully lifted her upper body from the bed so he could slide the coat from her frame. He then stared silently down at his hands, wondering if he dared go further.

Having never before seen a woman's body, other than the glimpses he'd caught in Persia, he felt suddenly young and shy. Despite the current situation, he could not bring himself to ignore his utter ignorance.

How could he possibly do this? He couldn't even undress the woman!

Christine's back arched and another scream escaped from her white lips.

What was he supposed to do? Was it coming? How he hated not being in control of a situation!

Steeling himself, he kept his eyes locked on her face as he began to once more remove her various garments, leaving her stays and petticoat where they were. He then quickly drew away, busying himself with the water.

Erik dipped a towel in the water, ringing it out and then using it to wipe the sweat from her now flushed face. Her skin, despite the chill air, was hot to the touch and he considered using a cooler cloth.

He didn't get the opportunity.

How strange it was to bring life into the world rather than send it out.

---

I wonder if you all will be as surprised with this chapter as I was. I know I'm moving a bit quickly, but I'd rather not bore you all to tears by focusing on Nicolas' lessons. Trust me; there will be more of him later on.

But more importantly, where is Raoul? And why did Christine come to Erik when she knew she was about to give birth? Will the birth happen without a hitch? Will Raoul ever figure out who Nicolas' teacher is?

I suppose you'll have to read on to find out.

Please read and review, I really appreciate it. Since this is my first Phantom phanfic, I'm a little nervous and could use the support and criticisms you have to offer.

Major thanks again to Lena! Thank you for continuing to read and review! It gives me reason to continue, knowing that someone other than me is interested in what happens!


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